


Moments of Peace

by thunderousbreak



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, implied mental health issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 17:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20763878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderousbreak/pseuds/thunderousbreak
Summary: “I’m going to offer you my hand and you’re going to ignore how hot it is because of my ass and we are going to introduce ourselves, alright?”Dumbly, Steve nodded.“Hi, I’m Bucky Barnes, and you are?” he said expectantly, hand outstretched and palm ready for the taking. Steve glanced at it.“Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”or, four times Bucky taught Steve how to live, and one-time Steve returned the favour.





	Moments of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> so this has been written for a while and it for the exceptionally wonderful Kai. happy birthday bud <3 i hope this is good enough for someone who deserves the best of the very best.
> 
> (lets ignore all the mistakes, thank you.)
> 
> warning: themes of depression and anxiety and paranoia (people finding out steve is captain america), they're not major but i figured a warning was necessary

New York was a mess. A lot had changed but one thing remained and that was the chaotic fumbles of people. If he blurred his eyes hard enough, it was easy to convince himself that the reality he saw was the past he desired. Smoking the shadows dawned on the ground, earphones glued to phones, clothes and designs he wasn’t sure he could have ever conceived: it was the same as what he abandoned.

Midday, with the sun beaming at the concrete plain and scorching those who wandered on the stony plain; Steve had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. So, as harried business people stormed past and tourists watched the world in delight, he in turn watched them. 

Since the thaw his words had lost meaning, became harder to eject as his throat choked the sound before he could make a noise. So, he opted for a silence that didn’t burden anyone but him, trapping what he wished to say into a dam of lost opportunities. It was okay though, or so he reasoned, in a time where his words meant nothing and posed as liabilities, he could make the easiest sacrifice he had ever made.

It wasn’t difficult, not to speak. After all, his voice held no significance before the serum, nobody wanted to listen to a runt with too much fire and not enough stature. It was just like that but self-imposed. Nobody wanted to know what stories he treasured from the past that were not ravaged by war, and at that time they were all he could offer.

Now, he couldn’t utter anything he carried with him to the future.

That was until he saw _him_, through a sheer miracle. The man had paused on one of the busiest streets in Manhattan, motorbike helmet cradled in the crease of his elbow and legs bracketing the bike itself. Head tilted to the side, he laughed loudly at something someone said to him, hair caressing his cheek and eyes crinkling as they gleamed. He looked down, shaking his head.

Stopping on the street, mouth gaping slightly at the sight of magnificence, Steve inhaled a sharp breath. He was as beautiful as the sun rising above the sea, a weightless shine of pure warmth and beauty. Unable to tear his gaze from the masterpiece, Steve watched him.

The man was grinning, talking animatedly with his hands, the world around him slowing in appreciation of everything he said. His friends, or whoever they were, appeared to be hooked on every word, awed as though the Mona Lisa had just exited her frame and began to roam the streets. Steve tried to listen, but he was too far and New York was too loud. To observe was all he could- was able to do. 

He considered approaching the man, employ his sparsely used words to introduce himself and ask him if he wanted to catch a drink, maybe some lunch. Or was it brunch? He didn’t know. Frowning, he thought he shouldn't risk it. His knowledge on the 21st century was spotty at best, and if the man couldn’t decipher it from Steve’s looks then surely he’d expose himself as a relic in conversation, it was inevitable. 

Thoroughly surprising himself, he countered, what if he didn’t? Amazingly, the anxiety that gnawed his confidence into splinters was submerged by something Steve had declared long dead. What if the man never realised, Steve not failing at being whatever he needed him to be? He felt his fingertips simmer as an emotion that he had thought was deceased revamped in his system.

Just from a look, he was beginning to feel fragments of life blossom from the dormant buds into something akin to flowers. He wanted- needed- wished to know more. Maybe it was the artist in him or perhaps the intrigue that had abandoned him since he greeted the new century. Whatever it was: it was something, and he was interested, and he was looking.

Whilst he stared, contemplations rooting him in position and temporarily rendering him stationary, the man turned to face him. Possibly felt the piercing gaze and sought to find it, eyes sweeping the bodies of people and eventually finding his. The moment their eyes locked, Steve could’ve sworn he felt electricity course through him. 

A current composed of the highest voltage, excitement and nervousness, mixed to make an astounding dose of exhilaration. For the second time that day, his breath hitched in his throat.

But despite the elation that came with acknowledgment, he felt embarrassed at being caught out in his evident staring. He was so obvious he might as well have been holding a sign. Looking away briefly, he shuffled on the spot, feigning enough ignorance to spare a glimpse of the man. One last look and then I’ll leave, he decided. There were no pending tasks begging for completion but he couldn’t continue what he was doing, it was creepy and the last thing he wanted was for the man to think he was that.

Thrusting his hands into his pocket, fingers casing his phone and holding onto it for support that he embarrassingly needed, he glanced in the direction once more only disheartened to find that the man had disappeared, motorbike nowhere to be found. Looking around, almost desperately, Steve tried to find him but ultimately couldn’t, not when the rush hour had started once more and everyone was in a hurry to grab lunch before their break ends. 

Sighing, head falling, he figured it was another loss to pile in his dam of lost opportunities, but out of them all this one caused him grief. He didn’t even manage to steal a name. Scuffing his shoe against the pavement, he shook his head, dismissing the thought and resumed the walk he had so carelessly ceased. Heavenly people existed; he couldn’t let himself be enamoured by them whenever they met. Most of them were to be cherished and loved from afar, never intimately. He needed more self-control than that.

But if there was one thing that Steve wasn’t good at, it was taking charge of his limbs and forcing them to comply with his mind. In a sense, they operated on their own and he lived with them, the soul being the appendage rather than the source. He was a train wreck, true to the New Yorker tradition. It was going fine though. He hadn’t died yet, had he?

“Hey!” he heard someone shout, their voice barely emerging from the murmur of life. 

Ignoring it, Steve weaved his way through the maze of bodies. Whoever they were looking for, they’d be lucky if they heard. His super hearing gave him an advantage but just barely.

“Hey! Excuse me!” the voice continued, and this time Steve managed to deduce that it was a man. 

As he paused at a crosswalk, he noted a woman struggling to push her walker across the street and hold her baby simultaneously, whilst keeping a hold of her other two kids. Immediately, he walked up to her. She looked up, startled and confused. 

“Need some help?” he asked, gesturing to the walker.

Profusely, she shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Thanks, but it’s okay, I got this.”

He should have probably asked her if she was sure, but her response said it all: she didn’t want his help. To persist would only stress her, so he nodded, smiling tightly and left her to her own devices.

“Hey, finally! I was shouting for you but you didn’t stop,” the same voice he heard earlier commented, right behind him. 

Perplexed, he turned around, expecting to see someone- anyone but _him_. It was the motorbike man, helmet and bike missing, leather jacket in hand revealing arms compact with nourished muscles. White sleeves were missing from his shoulders, the front of the shirt tucked into the skin-tight jeans, and he wore black boots to seal the look. His hair, now tied into a ponytail, projected wayward strands that coiled around his ears. 

He was smiling, an act as divine as the art lining cathedrals, but for some reason he was smiling at Steve, which was a phenomenon. Hands in his back pocket, he rocked on his heels as he continued, “I thought you would have stopped, or at least turned to look, you know? Curiosity and whatnot. But nope, you had your mind set and all you did was walk. Fast, might I add.”

He swallowed, for the lack of better words. Clearly, the man wasn’t upset, face luminous and warm and just like the pink haze that drowned trees in a forest. Yet, Steve couldn’t say anything, not even offer an explanation for his actions or a simple hi. He watched him, fascinated and curious. 

“It’s all good though, you stopped eventually. Can I pass my thank you to that lady? Without her and her kids I would never have even gotten to this part. Yay to small miracles.” He pulled his hands out of the pockets he burrowed them in and rubbed them together. “I’m going to offer you my hand and you’re going to ignore how hot it is because of my ass, and we are going to introduce ourselves, alright?”

Dumbly, Steve nodded. 

“Hi, I’m Bucky Barnes, and you are?” he said expectantly, hand outstretched and palm ready for the taking. Steve glanced at it.

“Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.” 

Clasping his hand around Bucky’s he felt that it was indeed warm. It was firm and comforting, an embrace that sent chills to explode all over Steve’s body. With just one shake, he felt trepidation he could lose slip off his shoulders. Was this how it felt to be free for just a moment?

“Say Steve, what were you doing today? Anything important?” Bucky asked, face...hopeful? 

Honestly, he said, “nothing.” Because that was all his agenda contained, nothing. At least until Fury had found him a strike team, then he’d work for SHIELD. He didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Great!” Bucky exclaimed. “I too, am doing nothing. Want to do nothing together?”

Clearing his throat, he questioned, “is that possible?”

“Steve, my friend, my dude, anything is possible. But now that I think about it, they have some cool exhibitions newly opened in the Natural History museum if you want to check them out? The place itself has so much to see, but there just isn’t enough time and my feeble legs can only take me so far. So, whaddaya say? Yes? No? Bucky, shut up?”

Steve’s lips quirked at that, and he shook his head. Bucky talking enough for the both of them was a blessing, it saved them from the awkward silences that trailed after Steve like a shadow. It was extremely helpful that he liked Bucky’s voice too. Just the right amount of deep and gruff. 

“Lead the way,” he said finally, gesturing to the road that could lead them somewhere.

Bucky offered his palm once more, and Steve looked at him, and then his palm, confused. Tentatively, resting his hand in Bucky’s, he felt fingers engross his large palm and they tugged them in the direction they needed to go for the museum. In his chest, his heart tightened. His hand in Bucky’s felt wonderful. It felt safe, which was a laughable cause in itself. His body was a weapon, what did he have to fear?

Smiling at their intertwined limbs, he smiled brightly to himself.

On the train in the subway, they were pressed against each other, bodies swarming them in one of the busiest times of the day, but he didn’t mind. Feeling the heat of Bucky’s arm brush against his sleeved one was tethering. It turned out that the subway was only nice when it wasn’t suffocating, but it could’ve been worse. Having someone with him, diverting his mind and speaking rapidly about everything and anything was the best way to spend his trip. 

By the time they reached the building, paid the fee and entered, Steve had felt as though he had done so much, when in fact, he had done nothing yet. But with Bucky still holding his hand and gently pulling him, he knew he could hang on just a little bit longer. They paid good money to get in, he’d make the most of it. There was so much yet to come. 

“You ever expect the T-Rex to come to life and get disappointed when it doesn’t?” Bucky asked, staring up at the impressive bones.

Steve’s stare contorted with confusion. “No?”

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re right,” Bucky said, shaking his head and smiling at himself. “When I was a kid my mom would talk about heaven. How we can be whatever we want to be and nothing is the limit, our wildest dreams can come true. I would tell her each and every time, without fail, that I would ask God to make me into a dinosaur. I wanted to be one so bad.”

“What about now?” he asked, head tilted to see Bucky properly.

“Now, I would still become a dinosaur. I don’t have a preference, T-Rex, Velociraptor, Ankylosaurus, they’re all fascinating and brilliant to me. I think that as long as I get to be one, I’ll be good. Young Bucky Barnes will be happy. I’ll be happy. My ma will be happy- you cannot go wrong here.”

No, Steve thought, you can’t. 

As they circled the bones and appreciated them, Bucky began to relay information he knew about them to Steve, educating him as though his ignorance wasn’t out of the ordinary or expected or something he had to obliterate. It was said in a way that meant it was simply stated. Bucky had no other motive, and it was refreshing to learn without scrutiny. It was liberating.

Next, they visited the upper floor, Steve following him to the human and culture exhibit first. There they saw the evolution of mankind, how the homo habilis developed into a homosapien, skeletons circling the room to show the progression of change. As they walked, still hand in hand, Bucky read the information aloud, amazed and eyes wide.

“Steve!” he said excitedly, jaw slacked and in awe. “This is so cool,I can’t believe this is our history.” 

_Our history_. Because it was. Every living and dead person derived from this, this was their common denominator. It was as simple as that.

“It’s crazy, right? Because we think that we have nothing in common with some people, think that ‘oh, well they’re brown and I’m white’, or, ‘you have no parents and I have both of mine’ but it’s just- so? And? Cool? Pushing aside how we share more similarities than differences, it’s so weird to see that fundamentally we’re the same. It’s so...ah, it’s stupid. I’m rambling but holy shit, this is just blowing my mind.” He laughed then, a sound that Steve wished never ceased. “I promise you I’m not losing my mind...entirely.”

“They’re your people,” Steve said.

“Yes! Exactly! Homo neanderthalis- I butchered that, I know- is extinct right? And that’s a different branch of evolution, one we don’t share. Technically, not my people. But it’s just, yeah man. You’re my people, I know that we don’t share the same blood, the same religion, hell even the same nationality. But we come from one source, that’s gotta mean something. We’re always going to have this one thing in common and it’s so incredible.”

Bucky looked through the glass once more, whispering, “wow,” under his breath unintentionally, and Steve watched his eyelids as they fluttered, capturing the bones and embedding them in his memory. _We’re always going to have this one thing in common_. He gulped, to himself. He shared something with the new century after all. 

After the intense revelation that he tried to dampen by focusing on Bucky, they attended the south Asian exhibit. A place that Steve and as it turned out, Bucky, didn’t know much about. As they walked through, Steve felt something- astonishment perhaps? He couldn’t describe it. But it lay low in his chest, simmering and doing nothing more.

Before the war exhibits like these didn’t exist, to learn of someone’s culture was only possible when they shared it, which wasn’t very often given the racism and intolerance he had left behind. But he loved learning. Individuals used to appeal to him, were usually the source for his human based art, but he had lost that passion, the flame withered and dead. Nonetheless, if not recreate, he could appreciate it.

They came across tiles from Iran and central Asian, symmetrical and with seemingly complex designs painted onto them. Some had been carved into different shapes, stars and crosses, but still fit together even though their composition varied. They were the same (pastel) shade of red and yellow and green and brown, and they looked spectacular, fitting each other with ease. He saw thin, long tiles that looked almost like bracelets, others with Arabic inscriptions, some with flowers and letters. 

Inside, he ached to take pictures, use the useless phone SHIELD gave him to be able to come back to these designs and experiment with them, or try to recreate them, understand them more. But ultimately, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Wow, Steve, check this out.”

Sadly, departing the display, he did.

“What is that?” he asked, enthralled by the painting.

“An illustration of a famous love story originating from Punjab: Heer Ranjha,” Bucky read, adding with a grimace, “I butchered that name, didn’t I.”

Steve didn’t respond. Moving up close to the portrait, he examined the man and woman, her laying her head on him as he played a flute. They wore bright, colourful clothing, something he was beginning to understand as a cultural etiquette, and the image exudes serenity, the trees in the distance portraying a kind isolation.

It was old, that much was evident, but so incredibly captivating too.

“So, they’re kind of like Romeo and Juliet?” Bucky commented, having read the plaque of information. “By the way, the woman is Heer and the man Ranjha.”

Tearing his gaze from the painting, Steve read the story for himself. It was kind of like Romeo and Juliet; they both died in the end and their families disagreed with their romantic indulgence. “Guess it is. What is it with old literature and tragedies?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know, something about death really gets the waterworks going? Makes for great plays and movies, which is a plus.”

Intrigued, he decided to read up more on the topic when he returned to his apartment- if he could. Reading was a chore as opposed to a hobby now, but he was allured by the story and wanted to know more. So, he would if he could he vowed to himself.

Next was the animal exhibit, vast and endless, captivating their undivided attention and reeling their minds from humans to creatures of different species. Suspended from the ceiling was a blue whale, an accurate portrayal of its magnificent size, and looking up at it, Steve couldn’t help but release an unstoppable, “wow,” amazed by the sheer strength and power of the replica.

From the corner of his eye he saw Bucky turn to look at him, gaze soft but piercing, and he slammed his lips shut prohibiting any further exhalations. Eyes inspecting the floors, he saw another composition of dinosaur skeletons and stuffed land mammals as the signs explained. Hippopotamus, rhino, elephants- all endangered according to the information. 

Bucky sighed. “We really are ruining this world not only for ourselves, but for the animals around us huh?”

And Steve looked at him, eyes attentive and slightly wide. Whilst drinking in his expression, Bucky continued, “it’s just, climate change affects us last. It affects these guys first, people in continents like, Asia or Africa. We get hit with it later, they have no choice but to deal with it now. And it’s killing them; so many animals and livelihoods extinct, it’s sad.”

Approaching a deer-like animal, he finished, “they can’t exactly protest global warming, it’s up to us. Here’s hoping for a brighter future, not much wishing can do but sometimes it’s all you have.”

“Wishing is what gets things done,” he replied, thinking back to his sickly body and how his desire for improvement made him find Dr Erskine, discover the serum and finally change. It wasn’t a lot, but his hope was the incentive for him to move on rather than deteriorate like leaves in the fall. There was still time to get things done.

“You know Stevie, you ain’t wrong, we got time to change before we lose more. We can do it,” Bucky said, looking away from the deer and to him. His eyes drowned Steve’s pupil, making Bucky all he could see, and he felt his heart thrum excitedly. “Just gotta get things done, you know?”

He did. It was time for action. 

As they passed multiple corridors and exited into portraits of animals, they came across a wall of paper. Each sheet showcased a drawing made by a visitor of something in the room, various animals, some well and others badly drawn. Grinning, Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm pulling him to the surface where paper and pencils were located, picking a set for each of them. 

Handing Steve his, Bucky smirked and stated, “may the best artist win.” 

And it wasn’t a profound declaration of war, nor was it intensely riveting or life changing. But hearing the words, the simplicity of it bearing down on him, he laughed, accepting the resources. Childish competitions, he had almost forgotten what they were.

Bucky immediately began to search the walls, looking at each piece of art intently, pulling it apart before stitching it together with his own fingers. Steve? He went to a peculiar creature, the Dodo, with its elongated beak and sharp claws, eyes beady and large. It was simple enough to recreate and with his fingers being unfamiliar with holding a pencil to draw, he hesitantly touched the paper with the tip. This was for fun, it wasn’t an assessment he had to pass.

“Hey Steve!” Bucky yelled in a whisper, seeking his attention. Readily, he gave it. “No peeking, alright? I know people like you, playing dirty and coming out on top. But us Barnes like playing by the rules, so keep your eyes on your prize.”

At the call, he chuckled, saying, “of course, I wouldn't dream of it.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes in feigned suspicion. “That’s what I thought pretty boy, now shh. You’re disturbing me from my masterpiece.”

He daren't point out how Bucky demanded his attention and obliged, shaking his head slightly in amusement. It felt so long, years in fact, since he had felt something akin to mirth. But drawing the Dodo, Bucky calling him every so often trying to trash talk, surrounded by people who didn’t recognise him or care enough to say anything, he felt exhilarated. Free of Captain America, the anonymity of the 21st century, the confusion. He felt..happy.

In the end his drawing was much better than Bucky’s, but it didn’t matter. Whilst Bucky slot his to be submitted and decisively tried to throw his own drawing of a giraffe into the trashcan allocated in every corner, Steve swiped it from his hand and carefully deposited it into his own pocket. One man's trash was another man's treasure, was that not the saying?

Bucky smiled at him knowingly but didn’t say anything, opting to resume their tour of the museum and check out the rest of the exhibits. Steve was relieved he didn’t, he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to explain that one. 

The museum was an immersion of knowledge and growth, of difference and similarities, wonder that Steve hadn’t even known was possible. It was a wonderful experience, he decided, as he and Bucky stumbled out of it hours later, tired but vibrating with all they had learnt. Bucky thought so too, if his words were anything to go by. But the day had ended and they were to part ways after their...adventure, really. 

“Well, Stevie, I had a really good time,” Bucky said, pausing near the subway entrance. 

Watching his face, Steve couldn’t detect any symptoms of lying. “Uh, so did I.”

Smiling, Bucky continued, “you really not a fan of talking, are you? I thought it might have been nerves or you were shy, something like that. But no, you’re a quiet type.” He hummed. Steve didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. “Well, I don’t mind, and I hope that you don’t mind that I can’t shut up. I’ve tried but I just like talking. Maybe it’s the sound of my own voice? Oh no, is that narcissistic? I promise you I’m not.”

“It’s not,” Steve told him, his own soft smile, developing. 

In return, Bucky grinned. “In that case, yeah, I like the sound of my own voice. I also like your voice, it’s deep but not rough, if that makes sense? You reading a book would be a dream. You have the perfect talking voice.”

Cheeks heating, Steve knew that a crimson lake emerged under his pale skin and gulped, awkward. Compliments would always be his kryptonite. 

“Sorry, that might sound creepy. I really am making a fool out of myself, aren’t I? I swear on Donald Trump’s life I’m not a creep.”

“But you hate Trump,” Steve pointed out. 

Bucky winked scandalously. “Oops.”

Steve chuckled, something he had been doing bountiful times in Bucky’s presence and nodded, glancing at his feet. Touché. 

“But no, I really have to set off now if I don’t want to get late,” Bucky said apologetically, as though he wished to stay with Steve for longer, which, why would he? “But I had an awesome time today. Still surprised about Neanderthals and seeing Jupiter's four moons but my existential crisis can wait for now. Want to, I don’t know, do this again sometime? Soon maybe?”

He tried to contain his surprise, truly. But he was never a good liar nor could he control himself, an open book with his secrets stamped on each page. Seeing his reaction, Bucky backtracked, adamantly insisting, “it’s okay if you don’t, or didn’t. Don’t have to say yes at all. Trust me, whatever you’re comfortable with. I assumed you had a good time but that was my bad, I probably should’ve just-”

“Yes,” he interjected, “yes I would like to do this again.”

The smile which beamed from Bucky’s face was enough to power all the stars in the sky, rivalling the sun’s intensity. “Yeah?” he breathed. 

“Yeah.”

Once he admitted that, swapping numbers came easily enough and Steve’s phone now held information a couple hours prior he deemed impossible to attain. It felt heavy in his hand, the digits weighting the device and reminding him how the most angelic person he’d ever met wanted to get to know him- meet him once again. 

It felt like an unattainable pipe dream which he had miraculously obtained. 

That night, laptop open and South Asian prints and mosaics decorating his screen, he fell asleep the easiest he had in a while. 

* * * *

Bucky text him often. Nonsensical and noncommittal updates or findings, things he was compelled to share for some odd reason. So, Steve began to hold onto his phone more often in his apartment, making sure not to miss a message. With a keyboard at his will, replying was much easier through the letters than it was verbally. Thus, whenever he could, he’d respond with his opinion or interpretation, rarely with something he initiated or saw. The distance between them was still at large.

But with every message and every couple of times they met, it was Bucky who would plow through landmines trying to reach him. Eager in his endeavours and sincere, his genuinity drenching Steve in showers of cold rain, startling him back to the present. 

Getting lost in himself was an easy task, something not even his new friend could prevent, but seeing him was quenching a lifelong thirst and as refreshing as morning dew. He couldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but seeing Bucky after the museum only solidified the attraction he had experienced at first glimpse. He was as sacred as a poet’s poem, and Steve could never trust himself to read the lines.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, when Bucky text him suddenly, _wanna watch a movie?_

He had been doing nothing, sat beside his window and peering at the street as the world passed by. Homesickness haunted his stomach with a longing and sadness he couldn’t shake, couldn’t abscond. It existed to be felt, so how could he do anything but? Times had changed and there was no going back, there was no home anymore. 

_Sure. What time? _He responded, considering if he were to stay home then the outcome would be severe and painful, to leave was sensible. Not that he was, he had been called out on his recklessness many times. But despite it all, he wished to see Bucky. He made the world slow down enough that it moved along with Steve, not against him. 

In seconds, he received a reply. _I’ll pick you up in 20. _

That was plenty of time for Steve to do nothing, everything he needed was already on his person. Wallet, phone, sunglasses, even his shoes. He didn’t have plans but was prepared, nonetheless. Considering how his day was progressing with an ache of yearning plaguing his chest, he guessed it all made sense.

But the preparation meant that whenever Bucky arrived, there would be no squabbling or scurrying or procrastination from him, he was ready. To pass time, he peaked at the world for longer, sighing when he entertained the thought of entering it to watch a movie. Despondency was leaking through him, he knew. But there was no way for him to subdue the emotional hurt his body was stifling since the thaw. 

One way or another, what was never meant to be kept a secret would always reveal itself. 

So, he let himself ponder in the melancholy he had created. Expelling as much as he could would inevitably free up room that Bucky could accommodate, he’d be fine in front of him. He always was.

Twenty minutes passed and as promised, Bucky shot him a text signalling he was outside. Reading it blankly, he couldn’t deny the birth of anticipation now that he was leaving. His pains were like open wounds, hurting for a while before a distraction or antidote ceased it. For him, that could only be the brunette man.

“Hey Buck,” he greeted in a low voice, smiling almost timidly at him. Gratefully accepting the helmet, he put it on and then took seat behind Bucky on his motorbike. 

They had shared the experience, Bucky even rode Steve’s motorbike, so it was nothing new. But the sheer magnificence of it still took his breath away, Bucky grinning under his helmet and straining the sleeves of his leather jacket was a sight worth witnessing. 

“Steve,” he replied, fond. “You ready?”

Curtly nodding against him, he felt the engine ferociously roar and the world around them move. They remained stagnant in their seats, but everything else soared past them, wind cloaking their skin like a suit and the sound of life passing in a blur. He loved bikes; they had always been a soft spot for him. 

They had watched a movie twice before in the big hall, the darkness a camouflage so that nobody recognised him. It was hard to bring a hat when the helmet was involved, so sunglasses had to suffice in disguise. Thus far, no one had recognised him (or at least approached him to express their sentiment) so he wasn’t worried. It would be okay.

When they reached the cinema, Bucky parked the motorbike and put the helmets in the pockets of his vehicle. Offering his hand, not even looking at Steve and expecting warm fingers to slot against his own, Steve gently slid his hand into place. A kind squeeze was shared between them, and Bucky eventually turned to him, saying, “ready?”

It was busy, unsurprising as he expected it, but Bucky warmed to him, pressing more of their bodies together. He didn’t say anything, nor could he complain when he was _finally_ achieving touch that didn’t result in a fight, but he was perplexed, nonetheless. His ma told him to never bite a blessing if he ever received one, accept it and move on. So, that’s what he did. 

“Okay, so, I’m not sure if you’ll be into this but since you liked Wreck-It Ralph so much, I was hoping we could watch Madagascar three? It’s animation and about escaped zoo animals trying to get back to their home in New York- here! Actually. So, what do you say?” Bucky asked, as though he had to. 

It was always a yes for him. “Sure.”

He grinned. “I’ll get our tickets, you get some salted popcorn for me, whatever you’d like, and a large drink for us to share? Cinema prices are so expensive, it’s easier to sneak snacks in. But, imagine doing that with popcorn? I wonder how it would work out. We should try it sometime, I think.” 

“For now, I’ll buy them.”

“Yes! To the food you go, see you in a bit.”

The line was long but service was fast, so Steve didn’t have to wait long. As he waited, he plucked some magic stars from the railing and decided to share them with Bucky since he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. Plus, magic stars. They were actually a thing. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” the woman at the till said, her prosthetic fingers resting on the counter next to the flesh ones.

Clearing his throat, he put the bag of chocolate on the counter and recited, “salted popcorn and a large coke, please.”

“Small, medium or large?”

“Uh, medium, please.”

She nodded and assembled the equipment necessary, passing him spare glances. Steve knew that she probably recognised him, was putting the stripes and suit over his body, identifying the man in front of her. He didn’t say anything, hoping that she wouldn’t. He was tired as it was.

Putting the popcorn in front of him, from the bottom of the counter she retrieved a bottle and lid, placing that on the surface too. Totalling the numbers on the machine, she said, “that will be $13.50 please.”

Digging into his pocket and attaining his wallet, he gathered the notes and passed them to her, forcefully smiling to ease some of the tension he felt swarm him. It was futile. She accumulated the change and dropped it onto his palm, offering a cheery, “enjoy your movie.”

Releasing the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, he nodded and left, eyes facing the floor so as not to attract any attention. They took him to the drinks stand, empty bottle requiring liquid. It was easy for Bucky to find him here, but also gave him space from the crowding bodies of others waiting to see a movie. 

It was a nice, secluded part of the cinema. Well, as secluded as it could be. Perhaps, it was just-

“Steve,” he heard a voice say. Eyes darting to his side, he saw Bucky approach. “Here, let me. Movie’s going to start now, it’ll be faster if I do it.”

He just had to hold onto the button, it wasn’t at all difficult or time consuming, but he didn’t argue. Stepping out of the way, he let Bucky take control of the screen and fill the cup, watching nothing as the seconds passed. He was...disorientated. 

Soon, the cup was brimming with coke, their food was in his hands, and Bucky held the tickets signalling it was time to enter the hall. They passed the tickets to an employee, letting him tear them, and went to the hall he gestured to. Finding a seat was easy, it was mostly empty. Still, they sat near the back, just in case.

“Are you excited?” Bucky asked, slumped in his seat.

Pausing as he put the straws into their drink, he questioned, “should I be?”

“That wasn’t a question you were supposed to answer with a question,” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “But touché.”

The movie was enjoyable, he decided when it ended, and they were walking to the nearest restaurant. Light-hearted, humorous, and sweet. Bucky seemed to agree.

“What was your favourite part?” he asked, arm wrapped around Steve’s as they walked together. To the unsuspecting eye, they would probably look like partners, Bucky had to know this. 

“Uh,” he scrambled, “I liked the circus performance. That was interesting- cool too. The lights were something else. You?”

Humming, he looked around calculatingly, looking at the bright sky with an expression that was generally reserved for the night. “The past two movies have been about Alex trying to get back to the zoo, right? His ‘home’. And in this movie, we see that home can be whatever we let it be. We think that we’re tethered to one place, so we refuse to let ourselves grow comfortable elsewhere. It was nice to see him embrace the circus and let them grow into his home. Sometimes, the place we leave behind isn’t as great as we think it is.”

Steve thought about racism, homophobia, xenophobia, ableism and the deep-rooted hatred his society carried. 

“But we think it is because we were forcefully ripped from it. He didn’t want to leave, so he imagines it to be a lot better than it truly is. I think there’s some fear and I don’t know, something else, playing into it- I’m not a psychologist. But it’s so nice for the trilogy to end with them staying with the circus and telling the zoo to fuck off. Man, that was satisfying.”

He felt wrong footed, confused and hurt. He didn’t understand why or how or what, he was...ambivalent. 

“Life is unpredictable right? We can do whatever the fuck we want, and this will have a good or bad or neutral consequence. But whatever it is, it’s special because it’s unique. Life isn’t scripted, that’s what makes every moment so incredible. It’s just, I don’t know. Bad things really fucking suck but you gotta appreciate the exclusivity of it. Take it in stride. Good with bad, bad with good.”

Weakly, Steve chimed, “language.”

Bucky stopped walking, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “I heard you swear at my DVD player in four languages for five minutes, who you fooling Stevie?”

“It was...a clone?” he tried.

Resuming his walk, Bucky commented, “you’re so right. You’re mind? Powerful.”

Steve scowled. “I hate your DVD player.”

“Enough for it to ‘set itself on fire and explode like a son of bitch star’?”

“How do you even remember that?”

Smirking, Bucky pointed at his brain. “This is a powerful tool my friend.”

He wished to retort, mouth gaping and breath on standby, the words ready to expel. But he couldn’t, voice box extinguishing. And it bothered him that he saw Bucky’s face drop softly, an understanding look apprehending his eyes, as he accepted that that was it. It was all his partner could offer.

Before Steve had the opportunity to truly feel as awful as he should, Bucky stormed ahead, hair levitating in the air behind him as he did. Pausing a few feet away from Steve, he pointed at him and said, “da da da da da da circus, ra da da da da da da da afro. Circus afro, circus afro. Polka dot, polka dot, polka dot afro!”

Taken aback, Steve let out a surprised laugh, walking up to him quickly and saying, “Bucky what are you doing, people are-”

“I like to move it, move it. I like to move it, move it. I like to move it, move it. Yeah, I like to, move it!”

Staring at him, mesmerised and bursting with fondness, he leaned back and laughed. His back arching and hips jutting to Bucky. Bucky, who was compelled to dance as he sang. 

“What the fuck,” he exclaimed, shaking his head as he watched the performance with glee and unrestrained attention. 

“Join me Stevie!”

And that was exactly what he was not doing to do. “Oh no, I don’t think so. I don’t know you, who are you again? Bye.”

Stumbling away, still giggling (God, it had to be _giggling_) he heard Bucky jog to catch up with him, wearing a fulfilled and proud look on his face. Curling an arm around him, so they were connected once again, he hummed to himself, feigning innocence. Steve’s chuckles were never ending. 

Eventually, he stopped, the noise dying down between them and his stomach was sedated from all the laughter. He felt weightless, as though his stresses had been alleviated and also calm. In the present completely, no leg stuck in the past.

“You know,” Bucky started nonchalantly, “you have the most amazing laugh I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t say anything back. 

“And what would you look at that? We’re here. Time flies when you’re having fun.”

* * * *

“The beach,” repeated Bucky, “it’s not far from here. Let’s go, come on.”

“It’s 3:30 in the morning.”

“Brilliant observation Steve! You ever considered becoming a detective? With deduction skills like that, you should.”

“Why are you even awake?”

“Why are you?”

Steve paused. “Pick me up in twenty.”

“See you then.”

He tossed the blanket off himself, bare feet soon colliding with the floor and chills swarmed his legs. Pushing himself towards the bathroom, he freshened up, trying to make himself look presentable and dressed in clothes he knew were an atrocity. He could hear Natasha telling him so in his ear. Even from China. 

Grabbing his phone and wallet, he waited for the text, choosing to look at the street below as cars drove past. It was tiring affair, watching the world pass him by as he was immobile in his home, but he couldn’t stop. Thankfully, there was always someone to pull him out of the ravine when he jumped in, and that was Bucky, more often than not.

Though, over the months he had befriended Natasha, obtaining a job at SHIELD, an organisation in which she operated. The rest of the Avengers, he didn’t see much of: Stark and Thor never to be found, Banner preferring solitude to Steve’s angst, and Clint was too ill to make it. But he couldn’t mourn the loss, he learnt. 

Getting to know them one at a time and at a pace he felt comfortable with gave him freedom he thought he had lost. The tentative bridges he built could be maintained at his own speed and it was liberating, the control it gave him. 

_i’m outside._

Walking away from the window, leaving his contemplations sat at the sill for him to collect and revisit later, he left the apartment quietly. Walking to the entrance, he passed a security guard on shift and nodded, once. As though he was surprised, the guard watched him, stunned. Unfamiliarity and distrust creeping onto his shoulders, he averted his gaze and left, deciding to not ponder over it too much. 

“Took you long enough,” Bucky said, grinning and eye’s alert.

“I like to keep you on my toes,” he replied, strapping his helmet on. 

“On your toes?”

“Wait, I meant yours.”

Chuckling knowingly to himself, Bucky nodded. “Got there in the end.”

“Just drive, you jerk.”

“Punk.”

Affectionate nicknames. They shared them now. Steve enjoyed that a lot more than he probably should have. 

The drive wasn’t lengthy, but with the roads gradually growing deserted, Bucky slowed down so that they could talk as he drove. Playing something as easy ‘I Spy’, passing time for the imminent sunrise. 

With the wind gliding past, the night belonging to them, and a comfort in the atmosphere that inserted life into his soul, Steve grinned to himself. It felt good- great, actually, to be alive and in the moment, present with a man who loved more dearly than he received. Blissfully conscious, Steve breathed. It felt as though he hadn’t done that in a long, long time. 

When the sky lightened and the wind began to simmer, they parked the bike and walked onto the beach, pausing near the ocean where waves swam gently to the coastline and receded just as quick. Staring at the water, memories of it engulfing him, he jumped when Bucky cleared his throat. 

“Come here,” he murmured, arm open invitingly. 

Sitting backwards, Steve entered the space that Bucky had cleared for him and softly landed on his shoulder. Head resting on him and legs pressed to his chest, arms binding them together. Around them, waves and birds and life woke, preparing for the new day.

“There is duality in everything,” Bucky started, voice just above a whisper. “Everything has the potential to be good, or bad, or neutral. It’s up to us to give it a chance to prove that.”

He wasn’t asking for a lot, just an opportunity, and who would Steve be if he didn’t appease Bucky in this one request? There was no chance that he would leave, not now when he was in Bucky’s grasp and he could feel his pulse against his skin. The ambivalence he felt towards the sea would have to wait, he had a sunrise to catch. 

And caught it, he did. As the sun rose and the clouds dispersed, a blue hue cast over the horizon, he watched as the darkness was banished for another day. The water glowed, blue and pink and golden shimmering on the bed; it was all surreal. The way the waves calmed, how the birds sang in return, how everything just fit into place.

The world was coloured in ways he never truly appreciated, and suddenly he remembered a group of men waking in the morn, mumbling about unjust labour and fatigue. The lands were dark as around them everything slept, but they packed their belongings, eating what few rations they could spare and embarked on the trek that Steve lead. 

He’d seen sunrises in those moments too, watched them with ease beknown to them during the day and sighed in relief at the promises it contained. That were scrawled on the canvas for them to read, a book of hope and promise. 

It didn’t hurt, not entirely, as Steve gazed at the rising sun and the glittery ocean and the security he felt in Bucky’s arms. Peace had consumed his soul, silenced the turmoil which he carried in his stomach, as he felt nothing but tranquil in the shade of Bucky’s silhouette. Rejoicing, his hurt was quiet in his chest, something it had never been before as it wept for all it lost, and that’s when he knew. 

He realised.

For a long time, since the thaw if he had to put a date on it, he had not lived a single day. Moments he spent with Bucky often tinkered with the mechanics in his body, shocking them with low voltages of electricity but unable to revive the dead machinery. But now, cuddled with a man he was certain he loved and the world that operated slow enough for him to catch up, he felt alive.

Felt energy thrum through every cell and every vein, making him feel beyond what little he already was. It was as though his ability to be human was unlocked, finally, and now. Now, he was alive, and he was drinking his first sips of cool water and inhaling air with lungs that didn’t threaten to suffocate him. 

Now, he felt life like he had never felt before. 

“You okay over there? You’ve kinda zoned out on me pal,” Bucky murmured, arm encompassing Steve tightening reassuringly. “You good, Stevie?”

Taking a deep breath, feeling truth embed his words, he replied, “never been better,” and it was the most exhilarating experience of his lifetime.

* * * *

Working with SHIELD consumed much of the free time he once needed to use, and it infiltrated the moments he would usually spend with Bucky. Gone were the spontaneous meetings and the impulsive plans, Steve realised that he would have to fit Bucky into his schedule rather than around it. Trying hard not to complain, he did what he had to do. 

Which composed a compromise that he often obliterated in favour of going out and escaping his home; they had movie nights, game nights, anything humanly possible nights at Steve’s apartment, generally when he had returned from work. It was all he could do when he didn’t have the time or strength to face reality after the gruelling day he’d had. 

It was a rare day for him when he had more than two consecutive days off. Taking control, he texted Bucky, _I want to do something. Something that doesn’t involve staying in my apartment._

The reply was instantaneous, _what do you have in mind?_

_Nothing. Admittedly, I didn’t think that far. Do you have any suggestions? _He text.

Bucky said, _we can bake at mine, go for a walk, have a slow relaxing day. or, if you want, there’s a show where you can swim with dolphins if you’re up for it? it looks super fun ngl_

His relationship with large quantities of water and being present in it was still one of conflict and struggle. With a chance to see Bucky’s home, stay in close proximity to him and relax was a dream he couldn’t grasp but was elated to have, nonetheless. 

_Address? _

Bucky sent him a laughing emoji and his address, with instructions on how to access his apartment once he got there. There was additional information on where he could park his motorbike should he bring it, but Steve didn’t feel like driving. He’d probably catch a cab considering it was his only other option, he didn’t recognise where Bucky lived.

Changing into something presentable and comfortable, he grabbed the keys for his motorbike as a precaution and slipped out of his apartment, bumping into his neighbour. 

“Oh, hey there,” she said abruptly, chuckle passing. “In a hurry?”

Nodding apologetically, Steve replied, “sorry about that Kate, I wasn’t looking where I was going and-” she doesn’t care, Rogers. Leave. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you waiting! Have a great day neighbour,” she said, smiling at him as though all was forgiven.

Pulling his lips into a returning smile, he shook his head in assent and blurred past her, head down as he stormed to the stairs and gradually to the entrance of the complex. They were friendly, him and Kate, but overstepping any invisible boundaries he had created over the year was still foreign to him. Accepting Bucky and all that entailed him was something that Steve reserved for him, everyone else (cancelling the Avengers and some work accomplices) were out of the equation. 

Funny, he thought to himself. Most of these people didn’t even know that an equation existed.

Hailing a cab, he relayed the address that Bucky gave him (dreading the potential bill of the drive) and ignored the nerves awry in his stomach. Nervousness was nothing new to him, it was experience he was more than familiar with and always conquered, refusing to fall victim the shackles of immobility it produced. But, before he could do any of that, he simmered in his anxiety. 

Bucky didn’t text him, something he was thankful for. But he did receive one from Natasha; _How is my favourite fossil?_ She asked.

He didn’t want to respond, almost opted not to and decided to reply when he returned home after his day with Bucky, but he knew it would only pique her interest. Intriguing her to question him relentlessly, interrogations he wished not to delve into it. Steve was very much in love with Bucky Barnes, he didn’t need her to find him a blind date. Or a date at all. 

_Good, thank you. How are you?_ He sent back, an innocuous message. 

_Want to catch some lunch? Stark’s paying._

_I’m running some errands, so I won’t make it today. Maybe some other time._ He’d feel bad but over the months he had acquainted them all, befriended most of them and met them as regularly as he could. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to be unavailable, and in this instance, he would be one of the missing ones. It was a nice dynamic he had discovered with them; he enjoyed the tentative closeness but the respected distance. 

_Errands? I can come if you want some company._

_It’s fine, truly. Have fun with the guys, I’d rather do this stuff alone. It’s pretty boring._

Her reply waited for a minute before it came. _Hmm. Okay, you win this round. See you at SD?_

_See you there._ He said, effectively ending the conversation and putting his phone away. Natasha meant well, but her curious gaze often left him feeling unwantedly exposed. Somethings he just wanted to keep for himself, and Bucky was one of them.

He eventually reached the destination, paying the cabbie an inordinate amount of money for the travel and peeled out of the backseat, footsteps pausing at the mouth of the building. Looking up, he figured that Bucky was in one of many apartments, he just had to get there. 

Texting him that he was outside, he waited for a response. 

Rather than a text back, Bucky materialised. Opened the door to the building, laughing at something the receptionist said to him, replying in a story like way, world around him so slow. Seeing Bucky in sweatpants and a shirt that had seen better days, hair whipped into a bun with the same strands dangling around his face; he looked like someone out of Steve’s dreams, now that he had them again.

Charming, heavenly, irresistible- Steve couldn’t pick a word to describe him. Soft as the worn clothes, he was the embodiment of the domesticity that Steve craved. A personification of all his hearts desires. It seemed to him that after searching for months and feeling restless in his skin, in his walk, in his life, he found the home that the century designed for him. It was Bucky. Always Bucky.

“Hey! Steve,” he greeted, enthusiastic and grin even brighter, all for him. He reached for Steve’s hand and connected them, muscle memory at this point, and introduced him to the building as he pulled him inside. “I was going to buzz you in- bye Farhad!- but figured it was easier to collect you. Sorry if I took too long, had to run halfway because the lift was so busy man. Mind if we take the stairs now?”

He raised an eyebrow, pulled from the trance which he had been submerged in. “Why do you think I never miss leg day?”

“O-kay pal, we get it, you’re fit and hot. No need to rub it on my face or else I will egg your house.”

“You overestimate your aim,” he told him fondly.

Bucky rolled his eyes and nudged him, grip tightening so not to lose Steve’s hand. “You’re an asshole and I won’t stop till you’re in jail.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re powerful enough for that.”

“Bitch, I-”

“You?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You’re obsessed with me.”

“Get out of my house, you don’t deserve to be here.”

“We’re still on the stairs, I fail to see where your house is.”

“I meant the building!”

“Oh, delusional too? You feeling okay, Buck? Not at all feverish or lame?”

“I reiterate I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”

“_Oh_.”

Coming back to himself, Steve realised what he had said. Of course, he’d admit it in the most mundane way possible, he wouldn’t be Steve if he didn’t. Sighing, he shook his head. 

“I fucked up, huh.”

Anxiety swarmed Bucky and Steve could feel it in every cell. “You didn’t mean it?” he asked, clenching Steve’s hand almost worriedly.

“Wait, no, I did. I did mean it- do even. I do mean it. I just wish I didn’t say it as we walk to your apartment, on the stairs, like this. Feels...I don’t know. Not as great, or enough maybe?” he feebly explained, eyes darting around the empty walls. “Ignore me, I’m not making any sense.”

“When do you make sense?” Bucky shot back, grin evident in his voice. “But, for what it’s worth, I love you too. Like, a lot.”

Mustering the courage, Steve looked at him, delight no doubt illuminating his face. “Really?”

“Oh, come on Steve, isn’t it obvious?” Bucky said, groaning at himself. “I was so fucking obvious; I mean I dragged you to a museum when I first saw you! Falling in love was easy after that, you make everything so simple. I’d have to be heartless not to.”

“So was I!” Steve insisted. When Bucky tried to refute it, he continued, “when I first saw you I just stopped and stared. In New York, at rush hour, I was a statue, and I know it sounds creepy but I watched you because I couldn’t believe someone so perfect exists. It couldn’t be real. But then you _invited_ me to the museum and I just. Falling in love was easy after that.”

They stopped on the staircase, no one else present or advancing towards them and gazed into each other’s eyes, adoration overwhelming. “Anyone ever told you you’re a sap, Steve Rogers?”

Searching Bucky’s eyes, holding onto the love that had no limits, he replied, “no one’s had the chance to see this side of me, let alone say that. I’m pretty new to relationships, you could say.”

“Well, lucky for us, I got time to teach you and love you along the way,” Bucky promised, smiling softly and lovely. “Now how about we go my apartment and I do just that?”

Steve couldn’t move as fast as he wanted even with the serum after that. He wanted to learn and know everything about Bucky, but first he had to admit who he was. To pursue a relationship whilst still disguising everything other than Steve Rogers was deception. Bucky needed the chance to back out, should Captain America be too much to handle or not at all a man he liked.

Honest. He needed to be honest, regardless of the possible detriment that followed. 

“Wait, Buck,” he said, gently tugging them to a halt.

They paused near the stair exit, Bucky’s excited grasp on the door lingering on the handle. Confused, he turned to Steve, silent as he gave him an opportunity to speak. A chance to talk. 

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Watching Bucky’s face for hostility, he elaborated, “I’m Steve Rogers but also-”

“Captain America,” Bucky finished, understanding to his last exhale. “I know Steve, you don't need to clarify anything.”

Eyebrows knitting together, he said, “you knew? Since when? For how long?” he loathed the insecurity that spawned. The doubt of Bucky’s love which sent his own reeling. Pushing it down, he tried to listen objectively.

“When we were walking around the museum, a lot of people were staring at you. Okay maybe not a lot, but enough. And don’t get me wrong, you’re insanely beautiful, I attest, but it was weird. So beautiful that people stared and whispered and sneakily took pictures? No, that’s treatment we reserve people who are important. No that you wouldn’t be even if you weren’t Captain America! No matter how ordinary, everyone is important, I didn’t-”

“Bucky,” he intervened, “they took pictures?”

Eyes alight, he was pulled from his train of thought and said, “right, so they were treating you like a celebrity and I ultimately decided that yeah, you look familiar but I didn’t know why, and it just didn’t click. And then somewhere in between the science and culture departments I heard someone say, ‘is that Captain America?’ and then someone else said ‘it is’ and I was. I was kind of surprised.”

He hadn’t known from the beginning. Steve could see the sincerity on Bucky, the honesty dripping from his voice. It was a true story. 

“I was shooting my shot, you know? It never occurred to me that oh shit, Steve Rogers is _that_ Steve Rogers, but you were so fucking awesome and I had a blast- even though you didn’t really talk to me, but hey, you didn’t object to me constantly holding your hand before I realised or any of my bullshit and I just. I guess because I was lucky enough to meet you as Steve Rogers, this guy I want to impress and date, and not Captain America, you being a superhero just. Didn’t really mean much to me.”

“It didn’t?”

“Wait- no- that’s so dismissive of what you do- it does! It does mean a lot to me. I didn’t mean it in that way. I just meant that, you being a _superhero_ superhero, like you being a celebrity. At the end of the day you’re just like anyone else and I don't know what I’m saying please tell me to shut up.”

Bucky looked mortified, as though he believed he had offended Steve which he hadn’t, he’d only solidified whatever bond they shared. Grabbing his hand from the door, Steve paired their hands together in between them, holding them as earnest as he could and truthful. Looking into Bucky’s eyes, hoping his were as warm as he felt, he half smiled.

“Between you and me, I don’t care I’m a ‘superhero superhero’ either. Always been Steve first and Cap second.”

“Don’t you mean asshole first and Cap second? Or are Steve and asshole synonymous?” Bucky rectified, grinning like the little shit he was.

Laughing, a full-blown guffaw of relief, love and life coursing through his veins igniting him with fire that sent his nerves shooting, he nodded. Reeled Bucky into a tight hug, one arm around his upper back and the other resting around his shoulder, holding him as tightly as he could without hurting him. Bucky clasped his arms around Steve’s lower back and pressed his lips against his collar bones.

Feeling boundless in their finite lifetime, Steve kissed his forehead, so dearly in love. 

“I love you, you know that, you jerk. I love you a whole lot.”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to hear it more...oh you know, one, two, three, a thousand times more.” Bucky’s smile embedded into his skin. A mark. “I love you too punk. You mean everything to me.”

It was unclear to him, just how it happened. So fast, so secure and so wondrously, but Steve finally found his home. Shrugged the nomad skin he wore since entering this new life, embracing the one he had forged with the help of the people. He was forgetting his pain and his worries, stepping his first steps into a life with a long lost but newly found confidence. 

He found hope again.

* * * *

“Steve. Steve. Get over here right now,” Bucky hissed, voice echoing in the hollow corridor. “I’m about to blow a fuse and you’re seriously texting someone? Have some respect!”

Eyebrows furrowing, he pocketed his phone and shone the flashlight at Bucky, questioning, “respect? To what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The living? Or maybe even, just possibly, the dead?” Bucky asked, waving his hands hysterically at the abandoned home they were searching.

As it turned out, Bucky was a firm believer in ghosts, the paranormal, and things that the human eye couldn’t comprehend and often filtered, thus prohibiting humans to see anything beyond what they were taught. If aliens could be real, why couldn’t ghosts? He reasoned. To humour him, Steve bought him to the mansion.

“I told you, ghosts aren’t real. Look at me, do I look dead to you?” he asked, gesturing to himself. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Shut up Frankenstein, that’s not even funny.”

“Bucky, you literally just called me Frankenstein-”

“Steve!” he interjected, eyes blown wide as he pressed a finger against his lips and gestured for him to shut up. “There’s something here.”

Distantly, he heard banging that echoed in the derelict building. It grew louder with every passing second. Bucky looked like he was going to faint on the spot. Consoling, Steve approached him and said, “hey, it’s okay. Maybe it’s rats or-”

“Bucky…” a ghostly voice breathed, wind storming around them and disrupting the room. 

“No, fuck you!” Bucky exclaimed, “I have seen way too many horror movies for this no. Steve, we’re getting the fuck out. Let’s go. Before it possesses you or worse, it does something to me! Let’s go. Stevie come on.”

He tugged on Steve’s arm, trembling as fear consumed him. Trying to calm him, Steve explained, “but Bucky, don’t you see? You were right all along. Holy shit. Maybe we should try to communicate with it-”

“You wanna stay here and die? Be my friend, but no. Fucking around with an anguished spirit was not on my to-do list today and it still isn’t,” Bucky decided, voice steely but shaky. “Let’s go. Come on Steve, please let’s just get out here-”

“Bucky…” the voice whispered once more, and where Steve shone the flashlight, a hand emerged.

Elongated fingers harbouring claws sharp enough to kill, scaly and terrifying. Pointing to it, Steve said, “Buck…”

As Bucky looked to it, registering its presence, he froze. Eyes glistening when Steve looked at him. Just barely, he lifted his finger and choked, “g-ghost. It’s a fucking-”

A roar originated from that area and Bucky let out a petrified scream, jumping into Steve and trying to merge into his body, his body trembling uncontrollable. Steve instinctively wrapped his hands around him, holding him with all the safety he could power, and felt Bucky’s heart racing in his chest.

Chuckling remorsefully, he shouted, “alright knock it off guys, it’s over.” Pulling Bucky’s face out of his chest, he stroked his cheek, and said, “I’m so sorry Buck, I didn’t think you’d-”

“That was a performance of a lifetime,” Tony declared, marching to them wearing a smirk. “I really outdid myself.”

Natasha followed, rolling her eyes and holding the prop. “You did nothing, it was all Jarvis. You can’t take credit for what he did.”

Bucky stood back, peeling his arms from around Steve and looked at the two Avengers bickering as they made their way to them. Looking back at Steve, searching his eyes, he said, “it was fake?”

Smiling sheepishly, he asked, “what answer will make you less angry?”

Face contorting in anger, Bucky shouted, “Steven Grant Rogers!”

“Oh no, we’re about to lose an Avenger,” Tony mumbled, “does that mean I can be leader now?”

“I’m sorry!” Steve exclaimed, “you were so excited to see ghosts and I just had to.”

“He really didn’t,” Tony muttered to Natasha, who was watching with a smirk. Steve raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He only shrugged.

Looking around and facing Natasha and Tony, Bucky pointed an accusatory finger, snarling, “you. You helped him? Why? I almost fucking shit myself and it wouldn’t have been cute!”

“No, but it would have been funny,” Natasha amended. Tony nodded agreeably. 

“You want ghosts Buckeroo? You got them. You liked it?”

Bucky took multiple deep breaths, catching his sanity as it drifted in the room. Eventually, as Steve rubbed his wrist and bought him back, he said with a poorly concealed smile, “terrifying. But so, freaking cool. If I died it would have been worth it.”

Looking around, Tony clapped his hands twice and said, “thank you! It took us a while to get this together, I need the appreciation.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled deviously as she waved the prop around. “What do you think? Built it in Stark’s lab.”

“I want it,” Bucky said.

She tossed it to him. “And now it’s yours. For memories and whatnot.”

“You still angry with me, Buck?” Steve asked, peering into his eyes sincerely. 

He sighed and shook his head, smiling softly. “I was pissed when you kept on ignoring me but nah, it was a fun experience, For however fucked up this prank was it was fun, thanks. But you know what this means?”

“What?”

“Sleep with one eye open Rogers,” Bucky said with a smirk. “You’re so screwed.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but behind them something dropped. Metal smashing against the concrete and disturbing the moment. Frowning, Steve said to Tony, “what was that? Did you drop something?”

Confused, Tony slowly walked in the direction of the sound and uttered, “no, that wasn’t me. Romanoff?”

“Not me either,” she said slowly and curiously. 

Rolling his eyes, Bucky laughed and pulled them from their stealthy investigation. “Fun's over guys, you told me way too quick to get scared now. Joke is officially dead.”

Steve didn’t reply, tossing Natasha a glance to see what she determined. Should he tell Bucky that it wasn’t part of the plan? She glanced at his boyfriend before shaking her head, signalling no. That might truly send Bucky overboard. They had to get him out, now. 

“Why’d- why’d Nat shake her head after you shared a look? What’s going on? You guys did this right?” Just then, something else dropped, closer to them- to Bucky than Steve felt comfortable with. “This is your doing, right? Steve? Nat? Tony?”

Passing Tony the flashlight and crowding Bucky’s view of the area in question, Steve said, “alright, Bucky, look at me. Just focus on me, okay? Good. Now, I’m going to need you to-”

“Rogers, get him the fuck out, it’s a ghost! It’s a fucking-”

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence before he swooped Bucky into his grasp and whilst covering him, ran them to the exit, Natasha and Tony right on his heel.

“Tony, what did you see?” Natasha demanded, voice inscrutable.

“It was an actual ghost!” he shouted, voice amazed as it was terrified. “Holy shit. Holy shit, how are we going to fight something we can’t even _kill_?”

Back where they had been conversing, just seconds ago, Clint emerged from the darkness, bandaged hands holding a hologram which transmitted a ghouly image of something unnatural on the wall. Laughing, he shook his head, saying to himself, “too easy. That was too easy.”

Thor was going to love this one, he just knew it. He got it all on tape.


End file.
